The New Indian Express ·
Faithline | Tales of the tusk
Happy Ganesh Chaturthi, dear readers. This time, it could be interesting to revisit Ganesha stories, both at home and across the sea. For instance, I initially thought Ganesha broke off his own tusk to take dictation from Veda Vyasa because he didn’t have a pen. Whereas the legend is deeper than that. The story goes that Vyasa wanted to dictate an epic poem, the Mahabharata. He needed someone to write it down as it flowed from his mind. Nobody capable was found to exist on Earth, so he approached Ganesha or Vighna Vinayaka, the remover of obstacles, and requested him to help.
“Take dictation?” asked Ganesha. “If you please,” said Vyasa. “Very well, I shall,” said Ganesha, but added the proviso, “You may not stop at any point, or I shall stop writing and go away.”
We are taught that the gods love to twist the odds for mankind just to see how we will react, since all creation is their divine play or lila. Since Vyasa was clever—he could sort out the Vedas, compose a long and complicated epic like the Mahabharata, and yet another holy book, the Srimad Bhagavatam—he made a counter-condition. Ganesha had to understand every word before he wrote it down. Ganesha was pleased to agree, secretly delighted. He broke off his own tusk to write with, as proof of goodwill, and they began the task.
Now and then, Vyasa composed several verses in extremely dense, layered language. Ganesha would have to pause to think them through before putting them down on the palm-leaf pages. This allowed Vyasa to draw breath and compose more verses in his head to stay ahead.
Vyasa’s response to Ganesha’s proviso is pointed out as an example of an organic solution to a problem—Vyasa could come up with this pragmatic strategy because he was goal-oriented and intent on fulfilling his mission. The legend remains a popular teaching story to inspire focus and concentration, and its iconic reminder in daily life is the broken tusk on all Ganesha images.
Another legend about the tusk that I saw danced out in Thailand appears in the Brahmanda Purana. They teach young people there to respect their parents. Parashurama, or Rama of the Axe, was Lord Vishnu’s sixth avatar, who is believed to have never really gone away but to be meditating on Earth in a secret cave in the mountains.
Lord Shiva had given Parashurama the axe to help him complete a mission. When Parashurama finished his task, he made his way to Mount Kailash, where Shiva lived, to return the axe and thank him. But at the mystic mountain, he found his path blocked by Ganesha. Lord Shiva had ordered his son to guard Mount Kailash against all visitors, since he was about to go into a long, deep trance and did not want to be disturbed.
Parashurama, an ardent Shiva-bhakt, was so furious at being blocked by Ganesha that he hurled the axe at him. Ganesha could have easily deflected the axe. But because it belonged to his father, he did not stop it out of respect and let it break his tusk. It is intriguing to think how these ancient stories animated so many minds across space and time, and continue to do so.
While most Thais are Theravada Buddhists, they also pray to Ganesha, Brahma, Shiva, Vishnu and Indra. Ganesha’s unique, endearing personality is especially apparent in Siam. Thais respect and celebrate his powers and evidently love him. They offer flowers every day at his many street shrines and also handmade birthday cards on Ganesh Chaturthi. They call him ‘Phi Kanes’.
Unsurprising perhaps, for Thais, like Indians once used to be, are ‘elephant people’. Educated elephant-whisperers still exist in Thailand today, and in the 17th century, Siam thought nothing of sending as many as 30 elephants at a time by ship to India for the maharaja market. Just imagine the enormity of taking even one elephant by ship across the ocean, with its sudden storms and choppy waters. But the Thais were such skilled elephant handlers that they confidently took so many across.
India and Thailand share 32 ‘darshans’ of Ganesha that the Thais know better than most Indians. Silpakorn Arts Faculty in Bangkok is further bonded with modern India through the legendary persona of the late Acharn (Acharya) Fua Haripitak—teacher, artist and art restorer—who spent six years in the 1940s at Shantiniketan. I once saw a painting competition at Silpakorn University for its students on the theme of Phi Kanes. The entries were most impressive, ranging from metal embossing to pencil on paper, batik, and gold and silver leaf on canvas. Several prize-winners said they felt “inspired and guided by Phi Kanes” when working on their entries, while first-prize winner, Aphiphon, who made an acrylic on canvas called ‘Power Faith’, said, “This is the first time I drew Phi Kanes, and he has brought me luck.” Their sincerity was exemplary.
I was further told by the dean of the Arts Faculty, who led the team of judges in its difficult task, “Ganesha is a great deity who connects with both Thai and Indian tradition. Also, in the art line, Ganesha is the god of art for us, so the theme of Ganesha encourages the students to have inspiration and imagination.”
May Ganesha always be kind to us all.
Renuka Narayanan | FAITHLINE | Senior journalist
(Views are personal)
(shebaba09@gmail.com)